


Particular Times

by pennypaperbrain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2011-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennypaperbrain/pseuds/pennypaperbrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for a prompt over at the Sherlock kinkmeme. The OP wanted to see John 'a bit worn out' by having a friend whose brain works differently and does things he doesn't realise are hurtful. So this is a scene which does that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Particular Times

It’s the times when he realises that he’s in this for life. That’s when John gets tired.

Finding a head in the fridge or making tea unthanked ten times running; that he can deal with. Irritation and routine get him through. And Sherlock falling into morbid silence for three days straight, that too is bearable. Life goes on; John feels a bit guilty but it gives him a chance to clean the kitchen and make himself curry without being poisoned. One eye on his friend, the other on giving himself a necessary break.

It was not bearable just now when he said ‘Good morning,’ expecting to be ignored by a Sherlock who was leaning over the desk in the living room, unmistakably – much as John tried to mistake this one – poking at half a rat with one of their fruit knives. Instead, Sherlock turned on him, dissecting the phrase ‘Good morning’ as if it was the hapless rodent. Or John.

Apparently there are twenty-two possible interpretations of ‘Good morning’, and each one of them means John is an idiot.

Now John is in the kitchen thinking ‘I can’t do this.’ Even with all the good times, when Sherlock’s on fire and John is included as audience, the chosen one who can almost understand. Or when they just watch TV, and John pretends to educate Sherlock about ‘real people’ and Sherlock pretends to take him seriously. They’re both superhuman then.

‘John?’

Sherlock has come up behind him. A quick glance reveals he’s not carrying the knife or the rat. Instead he’s got that look. Slightly sheepish, slightly stunned. Or it would mean that on anyone else.

It’s the look that means Sherlock is trying to understand what John is feeling, and how and whether he might be involved in it. John resists the temptation to shout sarcastic clues. He knows all the fires in Sherlock are burning together, trying to become ordinary flesh.

‘Are you all right?’ Sherlock says. ‘I made you a cup of tea.’

John follows the direction of his friend’s gaze. There is indeed a mug of something brown on the table. He picks it up and it’s not _quite_ cold as he takes a cautious swig. And he knows what the text message that made him wake up, swear and turn his phone off at 6.30 must have been.

John puts his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, and Sherlock lets him. Then he thinks for a long time about the question.

‘Sometimes I’m all right,’ he says, because he never lies when asked directly. ‘Often enough. Yes.’

It’s the times when he realises Sherlock is in this with him. That’s when he finds his strength.


End file.
